


Tolerate It

by starryadora



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Adora is kind of an asshole, Adora is older, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, College Student Catra, F/F, Lesbians, Sexual Themes, Songfic, age gap, but it’s okay, catradora, minor PTSD scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:28:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29346630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starryadora/pseuds/starryadora
Summary: Adora is so much older and wiser...And she tolerates Catra(obligatory song fic)
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 103





	Tolerate It

**Author's Note:**

> hi!!! i got back into a writing mood! here’s a catradora oneshot based on tolerate it by taylor swift! jdjhdjd i hope no one has already done this, but yeah :) 
> 
> <3

**Catra's P.O.V**

"You leaving?" I hear the body next to me groan as I button up my blouse. 

"Oh, um, yeah..." I stutter. I flinch at how weak I sound. Like a child, Catra. Just like a fucking child.

I look over at the muscular blonde girl laying beside me. She wears nothing but a tank top over a sports bra, her hair tied in a loose ponytail. The room smells like sweat, sex, and dollar store perfume

I wait for Adora to ask me to stay. To beg me not to leave. To give me wise words from her poet's mouth for the road. Instead, she just rolls back over, pretending she'd rather forget about me.

"There's money on the dresser for a cab."

And there's my cue to leave

_**I sit and watch you reading with your head low** _

_**I wake and watch you breathing with your eyes closed** _

_**I sit and watch you** _

_**I notice everything you do or don't do** _

**You're so much older and wiser, and I  
  
**

I met Adora when I was a junior in college last year. I had just turned 21 and was getting my first _legal_ drink at a bar just a few blocks away from campus with Scorpia and Entrapta

Adora was a bartender at the time. Honestly, she didn't need the job. She made enough money with her newly-released books that had just hit the shelves that fall. Bartending was just a fun side gig.

She told me it wasn't the money she was after. Adora had smirked smugly, poured me a drink, and explained that bars were best for people-watching. The action was fascinating. You'd see people in their natural states when they're drunk. You can see their true colors when they're high off the lights and the dancing heartbeats. You can watch first loves and heartbreaks within the span of hours. And all in one night.

She asked me what I did. I told her that I worked part-time at a bakery when I wasn't at school. I rambled on and on about how they'd let me decorate the menu boards and how I was working on a mural outside the brick building. I'm a bit of an art geek.

She had laughed, and as soon as I'd heard it, I knew I wanted to hear more of it. So we talked. And talked. And talked. I learned more and more about her.

For instance, she was older. Like way older. 30 and unmarried. She was a journalist for a news agency before her novelist career took off. And before that, she served in the military. Adora seemed to have lived a thousand different lifetimes before me.

And I loved it.

I loved the rush, the thrill, the anticipation.

She told me that she'd be off work on about 15 minutes and that we should hang out, if that's what the kids were still calling it these days. I nursed my vodka cranberry for the remaining time of her shift.

We met outside and walked a few blocks over to a record store. We made a beeline to the door at the back that led to a tiny, crammed storage room that smelled like mildew. She pulled out her journal and began to write. I smirked and asked if she was writing about me.

The blonde shrugged and gave me a smug look, pulling a cigarette out of her coat pocket, lighting it with a look of regret.

"Can I bum one?" I asked, holding my hand out.

She shook her head, taking a long drawl from the cigarette. "Don't be like me, kid. These things are killers."

"Well duh."

Her eyes were stern and held a look of indignation. She rolled her eyes condescendingly and pulled her knees to her chest.

"So do the record store people let you...hang out in the back or...?"

My question was never answered. Suddenly, our lips were crashing together and I felt like I was flying. My hands were on her shoulders. Hers were on my waist. And suddenly clothes met the floor and her body met mine.

And that was the night I met Adora.

_**I wait by the door like I'm just a kid** _

_**Use my best colors for your portrait** _

_**Lay the table with the fancy sh-** _

_**And watch you tolerate it** _

_**If it's all in my head, tell me now** _

_**Tell me I've got it wrong somehow** _

_**I know my love should be celebrated** _

_**But you tolerate it** _

In present day, I'm 22. Now a senior in college. Tons of restaurants and stores near the campus have heard of my work, so I'm doing everything from menu art to alleyway murals.

As aforementioned, I'm what you'd call an art geek. From the age of 3, you could hand me a marker, and you'd damn sure believe that you'll end up with something colorful. (Or, in my case at 3 years old, incoherent scribbles on a white wall that had to be painted over).

I carry my paints in one hand and tote around my large blank canvas in the other. Adora had finally agreed to be my muse so I could paint her portrait.

I've got my best paints with me. The ones I've even hesitated to use on the most high-priced murals. These are special.

I let myself in and see Adora typing on her computer. She's what one would call a workaholic. If she's not hunched over that damn keyboard or crafting up poetry in her journal, she's got her nose stuck in some philosophical book by people who are long dead.

I grin. "Hi."

She barely looks up at me.

I try again. "So I brought the paints..."

She raises an eyebrow, still deep in thought. The typewriter I bought her last christmas sits collecting dust at the back of her desk. I thought it'd be cute and old-fashioned, but let's face it: computers are way faster. She used it once or twice just to be nice, but other than that, it's only purpose is a rental apartment for spiders and their cobwebs. I should make them pay rent.

It's my fault for buying such an out-dated gift.

"That's today?" She asks, saving her progress and sighing like she'd rather be doing much more important things.

"Yeah...you promised" I say, sitting down on the bed. "But, you don't have to. We can reschedule. Or just not do it at all. Really, I can-"

"I'm gonna read." Is all she says, sitting in her chair and cracking open book thicker than 5 bibles mashed together.

I nod and set up my canvas. I'm not sure if that was her permission or her telling me to leave, but she hasn't sent me home yet, so I take that as a good sign.

She barely gives me a second thought as she flips the pages, annotating on different colored sticky notes.

I get a rough outline and stick my tongue out in concentration.

I try not to let my heart sink. Does she enjoy my presence? Does she wish I would stop pestering her?

Does she simply tolerate me?

_**I greet you with a battle hero's welcome** _

_**I take your indiscretions all in good fun** _

_**I sit and listen** _

_**I polish plates until they gleam and glisten** _

_**You're so much older and wiser, and I** _

"Tell me a story." I say after about 45 minutes of painting.

The silence is so loud, it's deafening. I'm tempted to but my earbuds in, but I don't wanna disconnect from this world just yet.

I wanna stay in this one. With her. 

She looks up at me, her face stern. Behind her blue eyes are a lifetime of wisdom. She's so much older and wiser than I'll ever be. I want to know everything.

I wanna know what she thinks about in the mornings. I wanna know what she dreams about when she falls asleep. I wanna know every single detail about her life. Sometimes I wish she'd start talking and never stop. That's how much I love her.

She gives one of those rare smiles. The kind that my brain takes a photograph of to store in my memory for safe-keeping and rainy days.

I would be nothing without her.

She tells me about a writing workshop she once went to and I fall back under her spell. I'm mesmerized. I'm hanging on to every word she says. I'm under a trance.

_**While you were out building other worlds, where was I?** _

_**Where's that man who'd throw blankets over my barbed wire?** _

_**I made you my temple, my mural, my sky** _

_**Now I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life** _

_**Drawing hearts in the byline** _

_**Always taking up too much space or time** _

_**You assume I'm fine, but what would you do if I** _

"But you probably wouldn't understand any of that." She says condescendingly.

I reel back into reality like a fish to a hook.

I look up at her and try my best to mask the hurt as I set my paintbrush down and try my best to force a smile, as if to say _Haha, yeah, I'm totally not gonna overanalyze this later when I'm alone._

She stands up and walks over, glancing at my progress. "Don't be like that, honey. You know I'm just teasing. It's all good fun."

 _Then why does it hurt so damn bad?_

She cups my cheek in her hand, and I feel myself leaning into her...these tiny sprinkles of affection are what I live for.

Adora plays with my hair and I feel myself holding onto her. She's so warm and safe. She'll protect me...

"I gotta get back to work." She mutters.

I take her hand. "Stay..." I mutter. And, not for the first time, I pray to whatever God there is that I'll finally be enough. Enough for her to stop working. Enough for her to stop and enjoy life. Enough for her to love.

She chuckles and ruffles my hair. "Catra, some of us have real jobs. I know you wouldn't-"

"Stop it!" I cut her off. And I can tell judging from her expression that we're both shocked. "Just stop!"

There's a silence that grows over the room and covers the walls like an ivy. For whatever reason, my mouth gets the balls to keep talking.

"I'm not a kid!" I tremble. "I'm not some stupid child that you can just put down to feel better about yourself. I'm sorry that you have a raging superiority complex, but I'm sick of it, Adora! I'm sick of never being enough for you! I'm tired of you gaslighting me into believing that it's all in my head! I don't know if you just want me for sex or if you just like having someone to bully, but for the love of God, be honest with me! Tell me how you really feel! Just tell me! Tell me you don't love me! Tell me that you'll never take me seriously because you don't see me as an equal! Stop lying to me! Tell me you don't love me! Tell me you just put up with me, damnit, and I'll leave! Be honest! I've tried so hard to gain your approval, and you just shut me down time and time again. So admit it. You. Just. Tolerate. Me."

_**I break free and leave us in ruins?** _

_**Took this dagger in me and removed it?** _

_**Gain the weight of you then lose it** _

_**Believe me, I could do it** _

There's another silence. I take a long, shaky breath after realizing I'd been holding it for so long. I didn't even feel the tears spilling out of my eyes, but I don't dare give her the satisfaction of seeing me wipe them with my sleeve.

I brace myself. I expect a lecture. A stern look. To be told that I'm acting like a child.

Certainly not what plays out before my eyes.

The older girl falls to her knees, letting out a guttural cry as she sobs, shaking. My eyes widen. I've never seen her so...vulnerable.

I watch as she cries, shaking.

"Adora...?" I ask, gently reaching a hand on her shoulder. Maybe I went too far...

"Y-you're right..." she whispers, her voice haunting and soul-shattering.

"I-I'm _what_?"

"You're right...I've been an asshole to you...I'm condescending and mean and..."

She cries, shaking. I've never seen her so out of touch before. She's never been so vulnerable with me. But then again, from what I know, she's always been guarded...

"I tried to stop it..." she whispers, voice wavering. "I should've been the one to take the bullet."

I stop to question her sanity when I remember. The military. The war. Adora had seen things no person should see. She'd seen her friends sacrifice themselves on the frontlines. Her earth shattered one beat at a time.

If the situation wasn't so dire, perhaps I'd be laughing at the irony. Here I am holding her like a child.

But I hold her close, though it feels a bit silly for a 5'2 girl like me to be holding this taller woman. Still, I sit on the carpet and hold her tightly, rocking her and shushing her.

"Hey...shhh...we aren't there anymore. We're here, Adora, in your apartment...you're alright...you're okay..."

"I'm okay..." she repeats, snapping out of her flashback.

I still hold her.

"I'm sorry..." she whimpers, face red in embarrassment. "I treated you like shit. There's no excuses. I couldn't swallow my pride and allow myself to feel happy with you. So I kept this...this stupid guard up."

"I forgive you."

"Well you shouldn't." She whispers, shakily standing and sitting on the couch. "I don't deserve you, Catra..."

"Adora..."

"I couldn't let you in. I couldn't let you see me vulnerable. I'm such an egotistical-"

I cut her off with a kiss. I know we should be talking. I know we should be working things out and dissecting all of the pain we've gone through, but I just really needed to kiss her.

Finally, we pull away and she sniffles, looking at me.

"You have the prettiest eyes.." I feel my heart melt. I've never heard her say something so...raw. So genuine.

"What?" I ask.

"I've always thought that. That night we met, when you asked what I was writing about...it was you. It was your eyes. I've tried every poetic phrase and turn to describe them but...I couldn't. That's all I can say. They're the prettiest."

I feel my heart melt. All this time, I had been begging for footnotes in the book of her life when I'd been the center all along.

She takes my hand.

"Can we start over...I know that I can't repair all the damage but..." she trials off.

I grin a cheesy grin and nod. "I would love to"

"To the bedroom?" She asks.

I feel my heart drop. Was all of this just a horny ploy for sex so she could fuck my brains out again?

She must sense my unease because she scoops me up bridal style. "I want to snuggle with my princess and make up for all the time I've spent hiding behind that wall."

I blush at the nickname. This is something a girl could get used to.

I let her carry me into her bedroom, my arms wrapped around her neck tightly as she carefully lays me down and snuggles into me.

"Catra?" She asks after a little while.

"Mmm...yeah?" I purr, my tail flicking.

"It's my turn to be little spoon."


End file.
